


Give me one reason

by PhoenixFelix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFelix/pseuds/PhoenixFelix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Greg have been dating for several months, but neither has revealed their feelings so Greg doesn't know where he stands. Angst and fluff, really, eventually...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give me one reason

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published work so any comments constructive or otherwise are welcomed! I intend for this to have 3 or 4 chapters in case this feels unfinished. Seriously let me know what you think - negative or positive - and any typos, errors etc. Thanks :)

Dinner tonight – 7pm? – MH.  
Make it 8.30 and I’m in. Where? – Greg.  
Fino’s, on Mount Street. 8.30 it is. – MH.

So, the weekly date was back on, Lestrade thought to himself as he sorted through the pile of folders on his desk. Due to their busy schedules they tried to stick to having a “date night” once a week instead of getting resentful of each other’s frequent last-minute cancellations. Not that Mycroft would ever admit that’s what they were doing, or even call it that, but Greg had watched enough Hollywood rom-coms to know that’s what it was.

He frowned, thinking of their last “date” several weeks earlier, before Mycroft had had to go abroad for work for a week or so. They’d gone back to his after abandoning drinks at a hideous wine bar; Greg remembered the frantic kissing in the back of the car, the rasp of Mycroft’s 5 o’clock shadow against his throat and his hand leisurely making its ascent up Greg’s inner thigh. Once they’d made it to the bedroom though, after stumbling through Greg’s flat pressed up against each other, Mycroft had suddenly shifted the pace, undressing Greg tantalisingly slowly and caressing his skin with gentle touches. The sex had been exquisitely tender, Mycroft spooning him from behind, teasing him with agonisingly slow thrusts and whispering sweet nothings in his ear until Greg thought he might black out before he came, his entire body felt on fire and he had never been so turned-on in his life. He’d never felt an orgasm could be so, so bloody well all-encompassing before. He hadn’t wanted to say anything to ruin the moment; thought his usual flippancy wouldn’t really cut it this time so let himself drift off to sleep, ensconced in Mycroft’s embrace.

In the morning, when Greg woke via his usual method of throwing the alarm clock against the wall and then having to clamber out of bed to retrieve it as it started bleeping twice as bloody fast as before, he saw the other half of the bed was empty. 

No note, no texts. No fucking nothing. 

Well that was then, he thought to himself, waking up from his daydream feeling more than a little aroused, maybe things will be different tonight. 

-x-x-x-

Fino’s Wine Cellar, 8.45pm 

“Sorry I’m late, bloody diversion,” grumbled Greg as he sat down opposite Mycroft in a secluded alcove.

“Not to worry, I’ve taken the liberty of ordering the wine –it’s quite a spicy Chianti. I hope you like it.”

“I’ll take anything that doesn’t taste of cat’s p-“

“Delightful, Gregory. I don’t usually choose wines with notes of animal urine, but I suppose there’s always a first time for everything,” retorted Mycroft. Greg chuckled, relaxing into his chair.

“How was the Middle East?” asked Greg.

“Hot, tedious and uneventful.” The conversation developed from their usual small talk about Greg’s work to anecdotes and banter, Mycroft slowly opening up as he relaxed and Greg teased conversation and smiles out of him. Later, when Greg inched his leg forwards, coming to rest between Mycroft’s legs somewhere between dessert and coffee, Mycroft knees tightened around him as his eyes widened fractionally and his eyes locked onto Greg’s gaze. 

“Shall we take our leave?” asked Mycroft smoothly. 

"About time. Your place or mine?”

-x-x-x-

“I missed you My,” Greg breathed as they writhed on his bed. He unbuttoned Mycroft’s shirt and began kissing down his chest, paying special attention to his nipples, his teeth teasing the delicate nubs gently, encouraged by Mycroft’s breathy moans. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped Mycroft’s trousers in one fluid movement, pulling his trousers and underwear down together. He bent down to yank Mycroft’s shoes off, but it was easier said than done.

“Gregory, much as I appreciate your passion, please do be careful. They are bespoke shoes and don’t appreciate rough treat-nghhh.” Whilst Mycroft had been lecturing him, Greg had rid Mycroft of clothes, socks and his bloody bespoke shoes, wrapped his lips around Mycroft’s length and taken him deep. 

“That shut you up,” grinned Greg, releasing him to lean back and look up at Mycroft. 

“Don’t-stop. You tease,” huffed Mycroft through clenched teeth. 

“As you wish.” Greg complied and got back to work, licking and kissing the head before taking him deeper and setting up a steady rhythm. As the encouraging noises from Mycroft increased in volume, Greg reached behind and began stroking Mycroft’s balls with soft caresses. 

“Gregory, I’m-” Before Mycroft could finish his sentence his whole body tensed and hot fluid flooded Greg’s mouth. He slumped back and ran his hand over his face.

“Too late. Sorry about that,” apologised Mycroft. 

“It’s fine,” reassured Greg, moving up to cuddle Mycroft and kiss him on the cheek, “I know you can’t control yourself around me, especially as I’m so good at giving head,” finished Greg cheekily, winking at Mycroft. Mycroft arched his eyebrow in return.

“You do have a definite talent. Now that we’ve stroked your ego, I’m aware that there’s a pressing matter,” Mycroft looked down innocently, “that requires being taken into hand. Would you agree?” 

“I would indeed. Be my guest,” answered Greg and lay back to watch as Mycroft began slowly stroking him. After speeding up his rhythm Mycroft leant over to start kissing along Greg’s jaw and neck, searching for the spot he knew drove Greg wild. 

“Oh God, Mycroft. That’s it, yes, that’s, oh fuck,” breathed Greg as he climaxed, spilling over Mycroft’s hand onto his stomach. 

A few moments later Mycroft reached over for some tissues to clean up and then let Greg settle in his arms, with Greg’s arm resting on his chest. Just as Greg was beginning to drift off to sleep he felt Mycroft slide out from under him and get up off the bed. He opened his eyes and turned his head to see Mycroft beginning to get dressed.

“What are you doing?” asked Greg, puzzled.

“I’m getting dressed – what does it look like?” replied Mycroft shortly as he began buttoning his shirt.

“Alright smartarse, but why? You don’t need to leave – stay the night,” said Greg, beginning to sit up. Mycroft turned away to find his trousers.

“You don’t have to be polite, you know. If you want me to leave I won’t be offended,” Mycroft said stiffly, not facing Greg. 

“You don’t half talk shit sometimes Mycroft. Now take your clothes off and come back to bed, I was comfy before and now it’s all cold,” grumbled Greg.

“Ok, if you insist,” replied Mycroft as he took his shirt off for the second time that evening and resumed his position on the bed.

“I do and no disappearing without saying bye in the morning either, you hear me?” asked Greg, returning his arm to Mycroft’s chest. 

“Anything else?” 

“Give us a kiss and go to sleep.”


	2. Never Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just continuing the story a bit, before the real angst kicks in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, all comments/criticisms welcome. Thanks for reading!

I enjoyed last night. _–_ Greg

As did I. _–_ MH

How’s your day going? – Greg

Busy so far – non-stop meetings. And yourself? – MH

No murders as yet (yawn) so today is paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. – Greg

 

 

What are you wearing? – Greg

Pardon? – MH

You can read. Tell me. – Greg

Gregory I do not enjoy texting and I do not know where you are going with this. – MH

Yes you do. C’mon, I’m bored at work and thinking of you. Play along. – Greg

If you insist. – MH

I do. Now get on with it. – Greg

Well, today I was in the City, so a navy chalkstripe suit with single-breasted jacket, waistcoat and single-pleat trousers, a pale blue herringbone shirt and a cerulean satin tie. – MH

Mmmm. Now don’t leave out the good stuff. Shoes? Braces? Cufflinks? – Greg

I am becoming slightly concerned. You appear to have a strange fascination with my clothing. Black wingtip brogues. No braces unfortunately. Black onyx cufflinks. – MH

Very nice indeed. No fetishes, just thought picturing you in all your gear would be a nice distraction from my dull day. And it is – Greg

I see. – MH

Actually, picturing you without any of your gear on is also distracting. – Greg

Very distracting. – Greg

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

I have just sat through an interminably long meeting and I could not concentrate. I blame you for diverting my attention. – MH

Oi oi, didn’t think you could get distracted by anything, I’m feeling honoured. – Greg

Yes, it is certainly an accomplishment. – MH

I’m not sure I can wait til next Wednesday to see you, how is Friday for you? – Greg

Alas I am unavailable. I can, however, “do” Saturday night. – MH

Nah sorry, I’m out with the boys. Sunday pm/evening any good? – Greg

I see. Let’s say Sunday around 6pm? – MH

Yep. Come round mine and I’ll do a roast. – Greg

I wasn’t aware you could cook. – MH

Not everyone has staff, y’know. And anyway, there’s lots of things you don’t know about me, things you can’t find out from an intel file. – Greg

I don’t know what you mean. MH

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

“Well, Gregory, that was absolutely delicious,” said Mycroft, leaning back in his chair and sighing with content.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You need fattening up,” Greg responded, eyeing up Mycroft.

Mycroft looked away before meeting Greg’s eye. “You know how to flatter me. Sherlock certainly wouldn’t agree with your statement.”

“I think we should probably leave your brother out of any appraisal of your body and the many, _many_ things I would like to do with it,” assured Greg. Mycroft blushed. Well, faint pink smudges appeared on his cheekbones, almost invisible to the naked eye, but Greg noticed regardless.

“Anyway, shall we?” Greg stood and picked up their wine glasses and gestured to the lounge.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

They were kissing on the sofa; Mycroft’s head was cupped in Greg’s hands as he deepened the kiss and Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg. Greg began pushing Mycroft back down onto the sofa and pushed a hand down to unbutton Mycroft’s shirt.

“Wait-no,” started Mycroft, pulling away and sitting up.

“What’s the matter?” asked Greg, sitting back and turning to look at Mycroft.

“Sorry, it’s just I didn’t intend to stay the night on this occasion. I have a very early start in the morning and I think it would be more advisable if I began the day in my own bed, having rested properly,” explained Mycroft.

“Right, ok,” said Greg, slightly bemused, twisting away and running a hand through his ruffled hair.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean to lead you on when I had no intention of following through, Gregory”.

“Nah it’s fine, I understand. I’ll get your coat,” said Greg, standing and walking to the hallway.

They stood on Greg’s doorstep and Mycroft leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

“I am sorry-“ Mycroft was interrupted as Greg grabbed his coat lapels and pulled him in for a bruising kiss before pulling away, breathing heavily.

“Stop apologising. It’s ok, I know your work is important. Just, can I see you soon?” asked Greg.

“Yes. Hopefully Wednesday will work for us both as usual. Goodnight, Gregory,” said Mycroft and he turned and walked down the steps leading to Greg’s flat and out into the night.

Greg subconsciously lifted his hand to his lips.

“Goodnight, My,” he muttered to himself. 


	3. No Words To Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Mycroft's POV and then things come to a head.

**“Are we still on for tonight – 7.30?” – Greg**

Mycroft looked at the text that had just arrived and sighed. This was, difficult. If he was interested in “self-help” (which he wasn’t) he would still have been disappointed. It was unlikely they did a volume on “how to extract yourself from a relationship before your undying love for the person is revealed and found to be unrequited”. If he was American, female and aged 21-35 he might have called it figuring out that Gregory “just wasn’t that into him” but he wasn’t and would forever blame Anthea for the knowledge of that phrase, of that film and the entire romantic comedy genre.

He returned to the matter in hand. Gregory. Gregory, Gregory, _Gregory_. He sighed again. Turning down the invitation to dinner by text seemed the best method – he wouldn’t falter when giving his reasons, Gregory wouldn’t be able to see how much it pained him to turn him down. He knew his mask of indifference was excellent; carefully calculated and honed over the years, but sometimes he felt Gregory could see straight through him and on this occasion he couldn’t take the risk. Using work as an excuse wasn’t exactly a lie. Not completely. There were many occasions when he had had to stay at his office until the small hours so it was only slightly stretching the truth. Additionally, it was something Gregory wouldn’t question as they had agreed not to be angry with each other if work interfered with seeing each other. It was also something Gregory could not check up on, one of the many advantages of working in a classified field.

All in all, his plan seemed sound and relatively foolproof. It was just like planning the stages of a negotiation, if he could ignore the dull ache in his chest and the desire to drink scotch until he stopped feeling like _this_.

**“Apologies Gregory, I’m going to have to work late tonight.” - MH**

**“Right ok, not to worry. Try and keep next Wednesday free though if you can? And make sure you get some sleep!” - Greg**

**“I’ll try.” – MH**

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

**“Hi sorry I haven’t been in touch much, work’s been crazy. Just to remind you about tomorrow night, I’ve booked a table for 8pm.” – Greg**

**“Gregory I’m sorry I may have to go to a prior engagement that I previously thought my presence wasn’t required at.” – MH**

**“C’mon My, I don’t wanna nag but I did ask you to keep this Wed free. Surely you can stare them down and tell them you can’t make it?” - Greg**

Why was Gregory making things so difficult? Surely I am making life easier for him – I am saving him the awkward conversation where he says “it’s not you, it’s me” (again he blamed Anthea for knowledge of that frankly awful phrase) or that he was too busy with work for a relationship, or if he was being honest, that he was bored with Mycroft and he’d had fun for a bit but maybe they should call it a day.

He couldn’t be charmed into going on another date, he thought, it had been 6 months now, not that he was counting. He couldn’t get drawn in by those rich, brown eyes that crinkled when Gregory smiled, that fixed on him all night, making him feel like the only person in the room. God, those eyes. Christ, I need to get a grip. It has to stop, he told himself firmly. If I let this go on the pain in another 6 months will be intolerable and self-preservation is important. He roused himself and began composing his reply.

**“I truly am sorry Gregory, but it is unavoidable. In fact it might be best if we have a break for a few weeks, there are several situations which require my total attention at present.” – MH**

There, that seemed satisfactory. He looked at his watch to see how long it was until he could be sat at home, drinking that scotch.

 

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

Greg received Mycroft’s text at precisely 4.05pm. At 4.06pm his phone lay on the floor on the opposite side of his office with the back missing. It had become dislodged on coming into contact with the wall at speed. By 4.15pm his team had received a bollocking for not working quickly enough on the investigation. By 6pm he had cancelled his reservation at the restaurant and decided it was necessary to have a quick, quiet, fucking _word_ with Mycroft _fucking_ Holmes when he had finished at work.

At 9.33pm he was stood outside Mycroft’s house and had rung the bell before he could change his mind.

Mycroft opened the door, “Evening, Gregory. What-?” he asked.

“Can I have a quick word?” asked Greg as he pushed past Mycroft and stepped into the house, striding through to the kitchen.

“What is it that we're doing Mycroft? Is this casual sex, are we fuck buddies?” fumed Greg, pacing the room. He turned to face Mycroft and stepped towards him, “Is this a relationship - the real thing? Because the other week, before you went to the Middle East or wherever the fuck you went, we had some fantastic sex, it was pretty mind-blowing if you ask me. I know it's a cliché and all that, but that's how I felt,” he finished lamely, shrugging, his earlier fight seeming to diminish as he noticed Mycroft was stood stock-still.

Greg turned away as if to leave and then swung back slowly, “The whole time you were away, the entire fucking time, all I could think about was the way you touched me that night, how you held me and, and... and then how you left without saying a single, solitary goodbye. And maybe I'm a schmuck for even thinking those things, never mind admitting them, but there we are," Greg exhaled loudly. 

“One last thing. Do you even know what tomorrow night was? Why I might have booked a restaurant for us?” asked Greg quietly. He looked at Mycroft one last time, trying to read his features, to look beneath the poker-face.

In Greg's opinion he just looked blank. And tired. That said it all, really.

“Well I'll be off, then. See you around, Mycroft,” he sighed and headed out of the kitchen, through the hall with its oh-so-understated decor and stupid fucking pot plants and shut the door softly behind him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, typos/comments anything - let me know. Thanks for reading!


End file.
